AutoBiography
by deadlycherry
Summary: Kurt finds out that Karofsky wrote a book detailing his high school years. This causes him to be concerned. Very concerned. Slash, later on. Changed the rating. Fixed error in Chapter 3.
1. Chapter 1

Authors note; First of all, I don't own anything to do with Glee, I don't even really like it anymore. I have not watched a single episode of the second season and I couldn't care less who leaves, doesn't leave, or graduates in the third. (Although if they gave Mark Salling a spin off, that would be awesome. Maybe he joins the CIA? I would totally watch that.) Second, while this is technically a future fic - ten years after graduation, to be specific - its because I'm going to pretend they all graduated ten years ago, in 2001. Because aside from the songs they sing, high school was the same back then. And I'm not creative enough to guess the future, just particular enough to know it won't be the same. Third; this all started because I heard about the Kiss, and then I YouTubed it, and I can't get it out of my head. I have seriously, four or five ideas based on that one two minute scene. So, if you are one of those people who believe it's a terrible thing to create a relationship based off a stolen kiss in a locker room please just stop reading.

Warnings; Future fic, AU, OOC, underage boys doing adult things, slash, really OOC,

Disclaimer; Not for profit. The plot is my own. Anything you recognize was used without permission.

It was not the phone call Kurt was expecting.

Not that he was expecting a call at all, but if he was, and if that call was a blast from McKinley High past, he would've expected Finn. His stepbrother called about once every two weeks or so, an awkward conversation as they really had nothing in common. Mercedes contacted him several times a week, but almost never by phone. Facebook was her preferred way. In fact, that was how anyone from high school contacted him. And ten years later, that was pretty rare. Same old story; high school ends, everyone scatters. And while he scattered to New York as expected - courtesy scholarships, grants, and one outrageous loan - he ended up back in Ohio after a year.

And it was in Cleveland that he received a call from one Artie Abrams. In a crowded Cleveland coffee shop, to be particular, waiting for his non fat mocha grande. He felt the vibration of his cell through his pocket and didn't recognize the number. Normally he would have let it go to voice mail, but the Lima area code had him answering.

Artie didn't waste time with small talk. He told Kurt who he was and asked if Kurt was planning on going to the reunion in two months. Confused, Kurt let him know that he was, in fact planning on it. Artie sighed, then dropped the bombshell.

"You should probably stop by a book store, then. Because Dave Karofsky wrote a - "

Kurt hung up the phone without thinking about it. One second Artie was talking, the next he panicked and hit the red button, as if he could change the facts by simply not hearing them.

He didn't know how long he stood there, being jostled and stared at by others as they reached around him for their own coffees. A barista snapping her fingers brought him out of his daze and he took the cup she held out. Instead of drinking it at a small table and gazing out the window as he usually did, he walked out the door and down the street. He knew of a Barnes and Noble nearby.

Sure enough, there it was. Just a few copies stacked on a New Releases table, but to Kurt it might as well have been a hundred, underneath neon letters blinking " Kurt Hummel is a slut, and a liar to boot. Only 12.95!"

The Book sat, unopened on the coffee table. Kurt stared at it from the couch, but staring straight at it felt uncomfortable, so he got up and went into the kitchen. He didn't have an appetite, and he couldn't think of anything to do in there, though, so he went back to the couch.

THE SHIELD it says, in bold black lettering, and the cover is simple, just Karofsky's senior picture, black and white. Wearing that damn letterman's jacket, and Kurt flashes to the sound of the zipper in the back of his car. He shakes his head, violently, trying to rid himself of memories he thought he buried a long time ago. "The Tormenter Tells All" it says in smaller writing.

Karofsky's eyes stare at him, until he cringes and flips the damn thing over. The back cover is a short summary, followed by multiple critical worshipping. "This former high school bully, on his search for redemption, puts a very real face on a huge societal problem" raves USA Today, and Kurt resolves to never again trust anything they say. "Kudos to Dave Karofsky for opening up and giving us the other side of the villain," says the NY Times, and Kurt hates them too.

"Dave Karofsky, journalist for the Cleveland Sun News, describes four years with a "Hate Shield," bullying other kids to tame the parts of himself he hated. Being a footballer player and in the closet, Karofsky especially targeted a fellow gay student to hide his own preferences, only to have senior year change everything. A strange and secret relationship forms between the two, and changes Karofsky forever."

"RELATIONSHIP?" Kurt yells at the book. It doesn't yell back. "What is this, a damn romance? IT WAS JUST SEX!" He yells back. The book still doesn't yell back, but the upstairs neighbor bangs on the floor. Kurt decides not to waste his time anymore, throws the book in the trash and goes for a walk.

The walk doesn't help. Kurt's ego may not be as swelled as it was in school, but it's still there and the truth of the matter is, someone wrote a book about him and he can't help it, he has to know what Karofsky said about him. Especially if other people - people he KNOWS, for crying out loud - have already read it.

He flashes to Lima's only bookstore. A local boy writing a book? God, they would devote a big display. He'd probably do a book tour, and stop in to do autographs. Kurt feels sick again, but his imagination can't help but paint a picture, of Dave Karofsky still wearing that stupid jacket, signing books for - Oh God. Everyone he knows.

He quickens his pace. Dammit, he has to know what that hamhock's been writing about him so he can do some damage control.

Kurt reads the book in only a few days. It would have been faster, but its getting towards the end of the school year and that means preparing for the end of year concert the school puts on every year. As the music teacher, it's his big, yearly Hoorah.

But the second he finishes at school, he rushes to his apartment and opens it up. He taped a blank white sheet of paper on the cover, so at least he doesn't have to look at Karofsky while he reads his life story. He finds out quickly that Karofsky didn't use his real name, thank heavens. Not that anyone who knows the two of them won't figure it out, but maybe if he NEVER EVER EVER goes back home, no one will know. He's referred to as Kyle throughout the whole thing.

" _Kyle was everything I wasn't, he was confident, he was smart, he was beautiful. Later I would find out that he officially announced his homosexuality about three years later than the rest of the school thought he did. He would walk through that hall way everyday in whatever he felt like wearing and no amount of slushies and locker slamming made any difference._

_He was in the Glee club, and could hit the high notes better than any girl in there. He was the only guy I knew who wore scarves even when it wasn't cold out._

_Despite that, I really didn't give him much thought. Kyle was just another geek, another person who wasn't one of us, someone to throw in the dumpster. Hell, we did it at least once a week. We ganged up on him, surrounded him, taunted him, and what does he do?_

_Takes off his jacket. He hands it to one of my friends, and then allows us to throw him a dumpster. I hated him for this, for reasons I couldn't explain to myself for years later. I hated him for not hiding himself. I hated him for being able to look us in the eye and not back down, even though he knew he was going to lose. I hated that, with one simple act he was able to be braver than I was ever going to be."_

" _He chased me into the locker room and for the first time, he didn't give me a witty quip and walk away, head held high and ass swaying. For the first time, I saw emotion in his eyes. I don't even know what he was saying. I'd always hated that I found him attractive, in an untouchable, you-can't-have-me way. But this? Eyes flashing, cheeks flushed, looking like walking sex - I kissed him. I kissed him for three seconds, and for three seconds, everything melted away and for once I was happy with myself. _

_I pulled away to look at him. He stared at me, but he didn't say anything, so I thought "what the hell" and leaned back in. That's when he shoved at me, and suddenly all the reasons I'd been hiding came back and hit me. I knew instantly I was his first kiss, and it wasn't what he'd been fantasizing about. Kyle just stood there, frozen, ugly shirt and big eyes, his hair messed up by my own hands, and didn't move. Didn't say a word."_

"_I was expelled. I had gone after him with such vehemence, I had scared him so bad, that I was asked to leave the school. To this day, I have never felt lower. Even as I was doing those things, I knew they were wrong. I was so scared, scared of losing my friends, scared that my family's acceptance of gays didn't extend to family members, scared of becoming Kyle, that I did the same to him. I scared him right back."_

"_I was his bodyguard. I wore the stupid hat. I did everything she told me to do, because what else could I have done? I could write a whole book about her, but it would never do her justice, because while Santana was a girl, she was just as big of a bully as me. She just used her bullying powers for good and not evil. _

_(Looking back, she was a damn genius. She found a way to tailor a situation so that no one lost, exactly. At seventeen, she should have been an ambassador to a warring country. They would have been too afraid to fight back.)_

_And she knew. She knew it was torture, being that close to him. I hated her and the same time, she was the only true friend I had. She knew my secret, and she didn't judge me for it. She would always answer the phone at one in the morning, listen to me angst, and then tell me I was normal. She disapproved of me being an asshole , and she let me know it at every turn. I didn't know where to begin making changes in my life. I was so lost, I thought about suicide daily. Santana took my hand and dragged me into the light."_

Kurt stretched, rubbing his eyes. A glance at the clock revealed that if he didn't want to pass out while teaching the next day, he needed sleep. And yet, he didn't want to put the book down. The first few chapters were uncomfortable, as his own memories weren't nearly as filled with self loathing so much as annoyance and eventually fear. But the more he read, the more that feeling passed. Karofsky was a damn good writer, even though Kurt only admitted so grudgingly. He never excused his own behavior, only explained it, something Kurt didn't expect at all. He had figured it would be a "Poor me, this is why society made me hurt those kids" deal, but it wasn't like that at all. Karofsky was scared; he brought that point up repeatedly. He was scared, and he hated himself for it.

Kurt wasn't sure what do with the information. On some level, he'd always know Karofsky was a human being with feelings and desires, but he'd always preferred thinking of him as just a monster with a football tucked under his arm. And to know that Karofsky had had feelings for him? More than just wanting power over him? That changed everything.

Kurt put the book on the table and turned off his lamp. Sleep wasn't easy, though. So far, nothing Karofsky had written about was news to the people Kurt knew. They may not have known Karofsky's inner anguish, but the events were common knowledge. The next chapter was titled "Santana's Birthday" though, and knowing exactly what happened that night - any many nights afterwards - had Kurt tossing and turning most of the night.

Well - there you go. It requires quite the suspension of disbelief, but hopefully it was worth it. I'll add more if anyone's interested, otherwise I'll move on.


	2. Chapter 2

Warnings; Underage alcohol and drug use, OOC, language, underage boys doing very adult things, future, AU, some more OOC, and oh, OOC. Really can't stress that enough.

I don't love this chapter, but I don't know what else to do with it, and I wanted to get going on the rest of it, so voila. It's a flashback, ladies and gentleman, so its in italics (except for the end) Let me know what you think.

Also, google "max adler shirtless with a puppy." I made it up off the top of my head, but it turns out there is in fact a picture of this. I can't stop thinking about him, I don't know why. I'm Max Ad-dicted-ler.

_Santana turned 18 on a Wednesday, but her parents were out of town two weekends later, so that's when she hosted her birthday party. She invited the Glee club, the Cheerios, the football and basketball teams, and exactly no body else. She was the only one in the school with the power to not only scare people into not crashing, but the ones who were invited made sure they were there. The best parties were at Santana's, with copious amounts of alcohol, a hot tub and Noah Puckerman's famous brownies. _

_Kurt planned his outfit from the day he'd heard about it. Black, practically painted on leather pants, a white long sleeve shirt (also formfitting, and practically see through to boot) and a beautiful green and blue, hand dyed silk scarf Carole had found at an artist's market and given to him for Christmas, confirming his suspicion that his father couldn't have married a better woman. _

_He drove Mercedes, Finn, and Rachel, and they were all in a good mood. They sang with the radio, and he remembers glancing in the rearview to see Finn and Rachel holding hands. It altered his mood instantly, although he didn't let it on. Blaine had broken up with him just a few weeks earlier, and after a Pity-Me girls weekend of ice cream, bitchiness and tears, he refused to talk about it. Everyone else seemed to forget and stopped asking him how he was, and for the most part he was relieved. The less he talked about it, the less he had to think about it, and the less it had to hurt. _

_And then he'd catch someone else, happy and in love, and it would tear into him all over again. _

_Therefore, it was Finn and Rachel's handholding fault that the very first thing he did upon entering Santana's house was beeline for the varieties of drinks lined up on the kitchen counter. He went the Midori Sour route - the green and blue bottles matched his scarf beautifully. _

_A couple hours and many cups worth later, he noticed that Dave Karofsky was not wearing his customary jacket, just a black t-shirt. And for years afterwards, Kurt would always maintain to himself that it was Finn and Rachel's fault that instead of looking like a giant, shapeless lump of dumbass, the t-shirt made sure that Kurt knew that Karofsky had things like a waist. And a broad chest, and the kind of arms that a guy needed to hold another guy up against a wall and fuck him mercilessly. Not that Kurt had those kinds of thoughts about Karofsky. Of course, now that he knew it was possible, he WAS having those thoughts about Karofsky. And now that he WAS having those thoughts about Karofsky, he sure as hell was going to need another drink._

_Two more sours and an hour later, he found himself upstairs. He'd headed up to use the bathroom, and then got lost trying to find the stairs. Opening a random door, he stumbled into a guest room, impeccably decorated, and amazingly empty. Santana's parties always had at least one epic hookup; normally he was tripping over couples by now. As it didn't hold A) Stairs, or B) someone to lead him towards the stairs, he turned to continue his search. _

_Karofsky was in the doorway, filling it with all his bulk and dark hair and Kurt really should have felt nervous, but he didn't. _

"_Where's your friend?" Karofsky asked quietly. _

"_Who knows?" Kurt shrugged. "I'm not his type, he says."_

"_Really? Hot and smart not his type?"_

"_Guess not." Kurt shrugged again, then looked up at Karofsky. Red rimmed eyes stared back; obviously he wasn't the only one hitting the bottle. "Did you just say something nice to me?"_

_Karofsky didn't answer, just took a step closer to Kurt, reaching out and stroking a lone finger down his scarf. When he got to the artfully frayed end, he wrapped his bulky finger in it - _

_Kurt could see what was going to happen next. Karofsky would pull him close, then lean down and take his mouth like he had that day in the locker room. His breath quickened as he anticipated it; as hard as he'd tried to get the memory of that heat out of his head, he hadn't been able to. He'd wake up shaking, replaying it in dreams, adding more intimate details until he wasn't entirely sure what really happened and what hadn't. _

_Any minute now, he'd be ravished all over again._

_Any minute NOW._

_Any minute now?_

_But the jock didn't move. Just kept staring at Kurt, fingers rubbing the silk slowly, waiting. His eyes weren't a watered down brown like Kurt had thought, they were more of a honey color, with a little green in them. _

"_Do you really think I'm hot? Or did you only kiss me because I'm the only gay guy you know?" _

_Karofsky nodded. Swallowed. "I - I really think you're hot._

_Normally, Kurt would have been much - much - MUCH more discriminating. But Blaine hadn't accused him of being hot when he dumped him. He'd accused him of being cold, distant, emotionally unattached. And the unfortunate truth of it was, he really was. He'd spent the past weeks trying to figure out why, when handed a walking dream such as Blaine, he couldn't work up the passion to keep him. _

_It wasn't like he was lacking in passion. After all, he hated Dave Karofsky, and that took all kinds of passion. And the alcohol made the leap from hate-passion to lust-passion simple. A way to prove that he wasn't made of ice. And also a way to get laid. _

"_Are you going to keep playing with my scarf or kiss me?" Courage, right? No one ever found out anything without asking the right questions._

_The question got him a grin. "That depends. Are you going to let me this time?" Duh, yes, caveman. Why ask otherwise? _

_Kurt launched himself forward, probably knocking into Karofsky's nose but too lost in the sudden heat to notice. He would hate himself in the morning, probably, but after several months of kissing Blaine, he'd been forced to admit to himself that, while pleasant, his kisses didn't burn. _

_Karofsky's father must have had some weird kinks, because the boy radiated body heat like he was half furnace. Anywhere he touched Kurt - fingers, lips, tongue - left a wake of warmth. And he was touching him everywhere, hands roaming his back and sides, mouth on his neck. Kurt knew he should have been reciprocating, but he couldn't get his brain to communicate with his body. Instead, he just focused on not making too much noise. It didn't take long for him to get hard, the mixture of alcohol and being a teenage boy certainly not helping. Vaguely, he made a note in the back of his head that skin tight leather pants were extremely uncomfortable when one was sporting an erection. _

_Karofsky moved his mouth back to Kurt's. Big hands slid down his back and cupped his ass, and without warning Kurt was lifted several inches in the air. He gripped Karofsky's shoulders as a large thigh was pushed between his own, and then he was lowered. The resulting pressure and friction against his cock had him moaning loudly before he could stop himself. One of those hands moved into his hair, deepening their kiss and he wanted to scream. Instead, he pushed his hips up desperately, rubbing against Karofsky's leg. This time it wasn't him moaning. Kurt's eyes flew open at the deep rumble, not expecting to be so affected by a simple noise, but coupled with the dilated pupils and swollen lips in front of him, he got impossibly more turned on. He wanted to hear it again._

_He moved his hand down Karofsky's shirt and bunched it in his fist, intent on getting the damn thing off. When Karofsky didn't seem to get the memo, he headed south, figuring that would do the trick. Two fingers under the waist of his jeans, rubbing against the soft skin of his hip, and what do you know, there was that moan again. _

"_Fuck, Kurt." Karofsky growled in a husky tone that sent sparks straight down his spine. His hips jutted forward more frantically, desperate. "So hot, so fucking hot." He dragged his tongue down Kurt's throat. "Want you so bad, baby, please." God, his voice like this was pure sex, there was no way he could say no. Actually, he couldn't form any words at all, just a series of whimpers and moans that Karofsky took as consent._

_He found himself laid out on the bed, Karofsky's large frame crawling over him and mouth latching on to his collarbone. Hands skittered to the button on his pants, fumbling, until finally a popping noise as it gave way and the zipper ripped open. His cock sprang out - who wears underwear with leather pants? - and met with scratchy denim. Desperate to remedy the situation, Kurt slid his hands down the back of Karofsky's jeans and shoved them down as far as he could reach. He could feel heaviness of his erection pressing into his hip, thick and hot._

_He was practically bucking now, so horny he couldn't even kiss properly, just latching on sloppily to whatever he could reach. "Please," he rasped out, needing something to happen and soon. _

_Fingers clenched in his hair but otherwise Karofsky made no motion. "Please," he tried again, humping at his leg again but a hand shot down to his thigh and kept him from moving._

"_My name," a low growl in his ear, "Say it."_

"_Dave," he whimpered, "Dave, Dave, Dave, Da -" He practically shouted when Karofsky - Dave - lined up their cocks and - oh…_

_Three seconds. That's all it took for Kurt to arch his back and bite Dave's lip, nothing but white starbursts behind his eyelids as he rode out the strongest orgasm he'd ever had. He was dimly aware that Dave didn't last much longer, thrusting only a few more times until he tensed up, hips jerking frantically as he had his own release. _

_When it was over, Dave collapsed on to his back, panting. Kurt felt the loss of body heat and shivered. Before he could react, he was maneuvered until he was draped across Dave's chest. Sprawled across Santana's guest bed, his last thought before passing out was simple._

_Shit._

SHIT.

Kurt's eyes sprang open, half expecting to find himself back in the guest room. It took him a few seconds to realize he was in his own bed, in Cleveland, and alone. It was a small comfort, though, when he realized it wasn't just sweat he was covered in.

Well, this was just great.


	3. Chapter 3

OOC, future, AU, ridiculousness….How about All? Think of a warning. Apply it.

I don't own Glee, The Today show, or anything else. No money is being made.

I adore Regis but I can't figure out how to write him. And when I think Kelly Ripa, I think Amy Poehler as Kelly Ripa. Other than that, I hope this moves the story along to your satisfaction.

That afternoon found Kurt at the Laundromat, washing his sheets and fuming as he read more of Karofsky's book. Luckily the Neanderthal hadn't revealed any smutty details of their…encounter, just generalities. That wasn't causing him to mutter under his breath in public, however.

"_He asked why I kissed him in the locker room that day, if I'd been attracted to him or if it was because I didn't know anyone else who was like us. I told him I thought he was hot, because, well, I'd been drinking and he'd been drinking and I was pretty sure it would get me some action. Besides, he didn't give me the option of 'I'd never seen you as anything other than unaffected before, and knowing I did that to you was an aphrodisiac.' For once, I had the upper hand."_

"For once he has the upper hand," Kurt mumbled sarcastically. "Lying bastard!" He turned the page. "He totally wanted me," he announced to no one in particular. "Probably followed me up the stairs like a damn stalker."

"_It was fast, frantic and better than any time I'd had with any girl."_

"You're damn right it was."

"_Luckily I was spared the awkardness of a morning after. I woke up hungover, and found myself not only alone, but without pants."_

"Mine were ruined. Cum isn't good for leather. And bring a belt next time, I had to keep yanking them up."

"_And so, equally exhilarated at having got laid and terrified that someone would find out it was with a guy, I walked downstairs and past any one who'd spent the night, in my boxers and tee shirt. The nice thing about being the biggest guy in the class, with a reputation for creative torture, meant no one said a word about it."_

Kurt continued reading and scoffing until his wash cycle ended. He scurried to shove everything in the dryer and get back to that stupid book. When he turned around, an older lady in a flowered dress was exclaiming over it.

"Are you reading this, young man?" She crowed.

"Yes," he admitted.

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH" She continued to fawn, "I just love the author. He covers all the Monsters games, and I do love hockey." She sighed dreamily. "All those nice young men, with all those muscles…." She trailed off, and Kurt was left standing there awkwardly, not sure whether to be polite and wait it out or throw the mother of all bitch fits.

He decided to wait. He was NOT that anxious to know what went on in the mind of Dave Karofsky anyway.

"I saw him," the old lady pointed to back of the book, apparently done thinking about muscle bound hockey players, "I saw him on the Today show this morning. What a good looking boy he is. Makes me wish I was fifty years younger." She sighed again. "And had a penis."

Luckily, she decided to move on at that point before Kurt was forced to think of a reply.

"_I give all the credit to the alcohol for that first time. There was no way Kyle would have slept with me otherwise. I knew his type, and chubby boys who sweat too much weren't it. I chalked it up to a one time thing, and when we got to school on Monday and he acted like nothing happened, I did the same. To be honest, I was relieved. I may have accepted the fact I was gay, but I still wasn't comfortable with anyone else knowing."_

"_Kyle was standing at the door when I answered. He looked me up and down slowly and sighed. "I overheard you say you're parents were away," He explained, and then he kissed me. _

_Before I knew it, we were making out on the couch and every time I got my head together long enough to ask him why he was there he'd find a spot to lick or touch and I would be distracted all over again."_

"_For the next two months, we continued our weird rendevous. One of us would let the other know when and where. We'd meet up, have sex, and go about our lives. We never talked about it; he would never admit to letting me screw him and I would never admit to screwing him. The arrangement worked quite nicely for both of us."_

Kurt finished making his bed, mulling over what he'd read while his laundry dried. Karofsky may have left out the smutty details, but the past two chapters had chronicled their…Kurt wasn't sure what to call it. Their mutually beneficial agreement, for lack of a better term. Karofsky described it as two teenage guys getting each other off and going their separate ways. For two months, it had been just that.

He remembered it vividly, ten years later. Remembered fighting to stay away. Remembered the first time he showed up unannounced, unwilling to admit that the first time at Santana's birthday haunted him.

Since Blaine had dumped him, he'd walked around in a haze. Nothing affected him the way it used to. He couldn't bring himself to care about the stuff he usually cared about. He was counting the days until he got to New York and could leave this stupid place behind.

He kept waiting for someone to say something, to notice that even though he was going through the motions, he wasn't there. No one did.

He continued the marathon shopping trips with the girls, but rarely purchased anything anymore. He practiced every song and dance routine for the Glee club until it was perfect, but he wasn't feeling it. He filled out his college applications, and did his homework, and passed his tests. He matched his accessories impeccably and he watched his father's diet and he explained things to Finn patiently and he did the laundry so Carole could relax after work. Meanwhile, he was hollow inside, and cold all the time.

He would wake up in the middle of the night still murmuring Karofsky's name. Sometimes, he'd swear he could even feel lingering warmth around him, and when he realized he was alone the cold was even more bitter.

Overhearing him telling Puck his parents were out of town one weekend shouldn't have affected him one bit. At least, that's what he told himself while he looked up the address in the phone book, gave his father an excuse, and drove himself over.

It was still winter, and getting dark early. The sun was nearly down when he knocked. When Karofsky opened the door, he was wearing sweatpants and a wife beater, all those fabulous arm muscles begging out to Kurt.

The rest happened like Karofsky would write it. They made out on the couch, humped at each other until they both came, then straightened up and Kurt went home without explaining why he was even there. And they continued in the same vein for several weeks until it wasn't enough anymore.

Kurt would have lied if anyone had asked. It was a cliché, it was overused, it was just plain stupid. But there was only one thing that made him feel warm, and that was being near Dave Karofsky. God help him, he actually LIKED kissing the damn oaf. Liked his hands and his mouth and all that body heat. Liked it when they were fooling around in the back of his car (because it had the bigger backseat) and Dave took off his jacket so Kurt would have something to put under his head. Liked the taste of him, liked the size of him.

Liked the fact he knew how to keep a secret. At least until now.

Kurt shook his head violently, as though doing so would shake the memories out and he could forget them entirely. The stupid book was bringing up things better left buried. He resolved not to read it anymore that night.

He made himself a quick dinner, and tried not to think any more, but it didn't work well. As he sat down he glanced at the photo collage on his fridge, and it reminded him that everyone in his hometown was now learning that when Kurt Hummel was depressed, his Prozac was sex. Which brought him right back to thinking about sex with Karofsky again.

"Stupid asshole," he thought to himself, "Finds a way to mindfuck me even after ten years."

He decided to try and go to bed early, but all he did was replay everything he'd read over and over. He felt….something. He couldn't quite explain it. Like there was a piece to the whole Karofsky puzzle that was missing. He remembered the old lady in the Laundromat. Damn, she was strange. Didn't she mention the Today show?

Ten minutes and a quick search later, he found it that it wasn't the Today show at all, but Live with Regis and Kelly. He found a link and soon, Kurt was watching it on the computer. Regis and Kelly irritated him, and he waited for their prattle to end. FINALLY, they got around to introducing Karofsky.

"A sports writer, for the Cleveland Sun News, this guy," Regis started, "this guy had recently published a book called "The Hate Shield," about being a bully. He's here today to talk to us, Dave Karofsky!"

The audience cheered and clapped, but Kurt didn't notice that. Because he hadn't seen him since graduation and so his memories of Karofsky involved a slightly chubby 18 year old with bad posture. So who the hell was this guy? His face wasn't so chubby anymore, his cheekbones and jaw line were a little more defined. He definitely carried himself more confidently, head up, shoulders back. The jeans and jacket uniform of high school had been replaced with a well tailored suit.

If Dave Karofsky was handsome in high school, he was drop dead gorgeous a decade later.

Kurt stared, jaw comically dropped, for the better part of the interview. He didn't even hear what they were talking about. He watched Karofsky smile and laugh, flashing white teeth and Kurt's heart was pounding so hard he thought it was going to end up outside his chest and ruin his sweater.

Regis was pointing to the book cover. "So Dave, this is you in high school?"

Karofsky smiled. "Yeah, that's my senior picture."

"Look at you!" Kelly squealed. "So cute in your jacket." The audience, apparently, agreed. Karofsky smiled at them.

"I don't know, I kind of like this one better," Regis remarked, pointing to Karofsky's suit, "You look good!" The audience agreed with that, too. Karofsky smiled again, one of those big teeth showing grins.

"Do you ever stop smiling?" Kurt asked him snarkily, knowing full well he was alone. Still, it felt good to form words.

"Yeah, my best friend picks out all my clothes. Otherwise I'd only ever leave the house in jeans and a tee shirt. She makes me see an actual tailor."

"I thought all gay guys had good fashion sense!" Regis remarked.

Karofsky laughed. "Not this one," he admitted, "I'm clueless."

"Finally," Kurt muttered, "It only took how many years to admit it?"

"So are you seeing anyone?" An audience member yelled out, and Kurt snapped his laptop shut before he could hear an answer. The show sucked anyway.

When he finally got to sleep that night, he dreamt about Karofsky again. Only this time, instead of replaying old memories, it was Dave from the Today show, crawling into bed and waking Kurt up slowly with kisses and those big hands. He would have a shadow of stubble by then, and Kurt imagined the feel of it under his lips when he kissed back.

It was unhurried, the opposite of high school. Dave rolled over, pulling Kurt on top of him so he could run his hands down his back, to his ass, and back up again. Their legs entwined, and Kurt kept his hands in Dave's hair, gently scratching the scalp with his fingers and relishing the way Dave whimpered when he hit a particularly sensitive spot.

Dream sex meant he was already prepared when he shifted his hips and lowered himself onto Dave's cock. He moaned happily at the way it filled him, perfect and familiar. His fingers moved in silky chest hair, as he moved himself in a slow, steady rhythm. Meanwhile, Dave's hand wrapped around him, stroking him in time to his thrusts. The expression on his face was sex personified, eyes hooded and dilated, cheeks flushed, lips swollen, and staring at Kurt like there was nothing more beautiful in the world. Right then, he felt it. He leaned down to kiss Dave….

And woke up. Miserable. Alone. Cold. And forced to face the reality of the situation. He still wanted Dave Karofsky.

NOTE; Well, I didn't really like this chapter either, but there it is. Maybe it's because I don't feel good. I've got a fever, and the only prescription is….reviews! (Hey, its worth a shot.) And the picture I'm going by for all this is (hopefully showing up) on my profile page.


	4. Chapter 4

Athor's Note; I fully intended on this being the last chapter. But then it took on a life of its own. So I give you chapter four, which is not the ending I had in mind at all but I…kind of like it. Next chapter will probably be the end, though, cause I have at least four more ideas I want to get started on. (I saw a picture of Max Adler in that red beret, and imagined it black, like they wear in the army. And now I have an inspiration.) I wouldn't have made it this far without all your lovely reviews. Thank you!

Warnings - OOC, Futurefic, boyonboy sexy times, bad grammar, language….Hopefully I covered it.

**Kurt, baby, you can run and hide and not answer your phone, but I will still find a way to talk to you. Call me. Now.**

Kurt groaned at his Facebook message from Mercedes. He'd been avoiding his cell and internet since buying the Book. Needless to say, he had many notification and message alerts. Normally he got excited to see that little red bubble. Now he just felt sick.

He closed his laptop without replying to any of them. He'd call Mercedes later, he told himself in an effort to lessen his guilt. When he'd finished reading. That way, he'd have something to talk about. It was Saturday morning, thankfully. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to concentrate at school, and who knew what his poor students would have sang instead of the amazing Broadway mash up he'd spent all year planning?

"_I found myself thinking, more than once, that it was actually perfect. I could still be the way I was, and no one had to know. Just be normal the rest of the time, and my reward was the hottest guy I know all but begging for me when we were alone. _

_But you can only fool yourself so long."_

"Like I ever begged," Kurt scoffed, but only half heartedly. The truth was, he had come close several times. And besides, being referred to as the hottest guy Karofsky knew - well, it made him a little less bitchy.

"_I remember when I realized I wanted more. It was senior prom. For the second year, I went with Santana. He went with his ex, although he insisted to anyone who asked that they were just friends. We spent part of our night with them, because Santana was friends with their whole singing group."_

"And friends-with-benefits to several." Kurt didn't remember being jealous of her at all. Not one bit. Well, unless he was being honest.

"_His stupid ex was right there next to him the whole night, and they danced. He was looking at him with those big dreamy eyes, and I wanted to punch someone for it. How could he look at him that way if I was the one he was fooling around with? How could he be normal around that arrogant prick? _

_That's when it hit me. Kyle wanted normal. He deserved normal. Not mutual moments when no one was around with someone who couldn't even be honest with himself. He needed someone who was just as open and true as he was. He needed someone like that asshole with the gelled up hair."_

Kurt laughed to himself. Blaine. He talked Kurt into going to prom with him, only because Kurt didn't want to go alone. Kurt spent the whole night trying not to look at Dave or hate Santana. Later, on the way home, they kissed, and Kurt tried to make himself feel something, but he didn't. Blaine wanted more than just kisses, and while he had a persuasive argument - the good ol' "Baby please, it's prom. It's special. I need you. Baby, Baby." defense - Kurt sent him on his way home, so he'd have time to think about….well, what it meant when a really hot guy wanted to be with you, in public and everything, but you couldn't help wishing he was someone else. Someone who was probably trying to get into that stupid slut's amazing strapless dress, just to convince himself he wasn't into boys.

"_I agonized about it all night. I knew this was going to be my whole life, if I didn't come out of the closet. So the next morning, over breakfast, I told my parents."_

"_Kyle and I didn't have sex after that. We didn't talk. There was a graduation party, but other than a nod we didn't acknowledge each other._

_A part of me had thought coming out would make everything magically snap into place. It didn't. While I felt better about my family knowing, I didn't tell anyone at school. There was only a few weeks left until graduation, and I was planning on leaving and never looking back."_

Kurt finished the book a few hours later. In the end Karofsky came out to his family and was able to finally drop his shield or some drivel like that. Kurt stared at the author's photo on the last page. Really, it wasn't fair. Karofsky looked exactly as he had in Kurt's dream the night before, right down to the five o'clock shadow. It made his chest ache. Why did he have to be so handsome? If only ten years could have handed him, say, baldness, or a beer gut, or maybe a tragic accident that left half his face under a mask for fear of scaring innocent children.

"_Kyle and I didn't have sex after that." _He kept focusing on it. "_Kyle and I didn't have sex after that." _Really? That's not how Kurt remembered it.

The way Kurt remembered it, it was two weeks after prom and a week before graduation. The two weeks had gone by with no word from Dave. Not even a glance in the halls. It had left Kurt feeling even more hollow inside, even though he tried to write it off as anxiety about school ending. Because there was no way he was upset about Dave Karofsky ignoring him. Hell, that's what he wanted for four years right? But every day that went by made it harder and harder to ignore - he missed him.

Which is why, when he headed to his car after school and saw Karofsky leaning against his own truck, which was conveniently parked next to him, he followed him home. And then followed him inside. And upstairs. And into Karofsky's bedroom.

Kurt really, really didn't want to admit to himself that he felt like a puppy just then, overjoyed at the tiniest scrap of attention from his owner. After two weeks, he should have just gone home. Or said something, at least, but neither one of them had said a word so far. Karofsky was just staring at him in that weird intense way that made Kurt incredibly nervous and turned on at the same time.

Slowly, he took a step forward, then another, and one more until he was finally close enough to touch. He licked his lips without thinking about it, and Dave finally, finally leaned in to kiss him. Kurt let out a relieved sigh without meaning to, but the rush hit him and suddenly he was clinging to Dave's neck and trying to get his shirt off. But to his surprise, Dave pushed his hands away. When opened his mouth to ask why, Dave kissed him again, surprisingly sweet this time. One hand worked its way into Kurt's hair, the other stayed on his waist. He kept it slow, making Kurt a little apprehensive. This was just sex. It had always been just sex, fast and desperate and hot, just the two of them getting off.

It wasn't…this gentle pressure and lingering kisses. Dave was supposed to be bending him over the side of the bed, not lowering him down on the pillows and kissing his way down Kurt's chest. Kurt was supposed to be arching his back against a broad chest, not against the mattress when a mouth closed around his cock. And Dave was supposed to jerk him from behind until he came, not pull away when he was close just to kiss him all slow again. It wasn't supposed to take this long to stretch him out and get him ready.

And even though he'd missed it while it was gone, Dave's cock shouldn't have felt so good when it was in him as deep as it could be. And there shouldn't have been more of those kissed while he adjusted, and it should have been fast and precise, not….not like this. He shouldn't have looked into Dave's eyes and lost his breath.

It shouldn't have been what he always imagined sex would be. And he shouldn't have felt so much like saying "I love you" when it was over.

Kurt pulled himself out of yet another flashback to find himself crying. He wiped his eyes and blew his nose and tried not to be upset that Karofsky had apparently forgotten about that afternoon. The one that scared Kurt so much he avoided Karofsky at all costs, all the way until the end of summer when he went to New York.

He had purposely avoided thinking about it this whole time. At the time, he'd assumed it was just a good bye fuck, and it didn't mean anything to Karofsky. Just like it shouldn't have meant anything to him. And obviously it didn't mean anything, or it would have found its way into that stupid book. Stuff like that sells. So why would he leave it out, unless he forgot about it?

Kurt's chest ached at that thought. He tried to block it, but it was still hard to breathe. So instead, he got angry. How could Karofsky had forgotten? He was the one to initiate it. Kurt would have been perfectly fine with not seeing him again, then it would have just been a hot memory. Not….not confusing like it got afterwards.

He seethed, for awhile. And then he got an idea. Pulling his laptop closer, he googled "Address Search."


	5. Chapter 5

Author's note - This is it. It took a long time to finish this chapter, but here we are! Realized that there's more dialogue in this one chapter than the rest of the story combined, which advances the plot but stresses me out. I'm not great at dialogue. Also, I didn't do a great job of editing, I apologize. Hopefully you like it anyway.

Kurt waited in front a plain door, marked only with a gold plated 4-C. He'd already knocked, and while waiting for someone to answer, he realized exactly how stupid this idea was. He hadn't bothered doing any internet research on Karofsky before writing down the address and changing into his most flattering jeans, boots, and sweater. The book was only about his high school years. For all Kurt knew, he was in a happy little civil partnership with several adopted children and a dog.

But the door finally opened and Santana Lopez was on the other side. It didn't take long for her face to go from polite, to recognition, to just plain pissed, and she slammed the door in his face.

Kurt stood there shocked, but not surprised. Karofsky and Santana were best friends in high school according to the book, so why not now? Besides, if they were room mates, then that meant Dave probably didn't live with another guy. He knocked again.

"Vete!" Santana hollered on the other side. "No hablo ingles."

"Dammit Lopez open the door!"

She yanked it open, and shot him a glare. Ten years had done nothing to diminish her scariness. If anything, it had exacerbated it. "What. Do. You. Want?"

"I want to talk to Karofsky."

Santana scoffed. She was still good at it. "Why?"

"None of your business. Where is he?"

"I'm not telling you. You think you can show up and just mess with his head all over again?"

"I'm not going to mess with his head. I just want to - to talk to him."

Santana laughed bitterly. "No. Absolutely not. You've had ten years to talk to him and it wasn't until he wrote a book and exposed your dirty little secret that you felt the need to even think about him. So don't give me that rash of bullshit."

Kurt opened his mouth with a witty reply. Unfortunately that reply came out in the form of Um. And some other, vaguely word like syllables. The main reason Santana could always sting was her ability to throw the ugly truth directly at a person. And she was on a roll.

"I mean, do you even know what you did to him? You were all, Oh Dave, be yourself, come out of the closet, be gay and free. But you know, keep the fact we're fucking to yourself."

"Oh, it wasn't like that at all." Maybe a little.

"Shut up, it was too. Christ! Do you know how lucky you were? Dave LOVED YOU. He came out FOR YOU. He risked his football scholarship, his friends, his family FOR YOU. Yeah, it all turned out okay in the end for him, but he didn't know that. He just wanted you to like him and it was never enough for you, was it, Princess?"

Normally, Kurt would have thrown down over the use of Princess, but he was stuck on what came before that. "Dave didn't love me," He said quietly, and it stung him a little bit, even a decade later. Santana laughed bitterly.

"Are you kidding me? That's all I heard from the day you first hooked up at my party. He loved you so much, he didn't even ASK why you were hooking up in the first place, he just took what he could get. Just to be near you for awhile."

"No," Kurt interrupted, "We were just…getting off, it wasn't like that."

"Bullshit." Santana emphasized. "Maybe _you _were just getting off, but it was more to him. It always was."

Kurt didn't know what to say to that for awhile. "I guess he forgot that part in the book,' he finally shot back weakly. Santana looked at him, stunned. If he wasn't so depressed, he would have felt victorious at rendering her speechless, even if it was at his own stupidity.

"You know what?" She finally said. "There's a game that he's covering tonight." She gave him the address. "I love the big oaf, but he needs to deal with his own mess," She was saying to herself as she closed the door. Kurt didn't know whether to do a victory dance or just go home.

Kurt arrived at the entrance to the arena to see a crowd of people leaving, and groaned. Obviously the game was over, and the chances of finding Dave were nearly impossible. Not that it stopped him from trying to look at every single person there.

After fifteen minutes of not seeing him, Kurt began to accept a simple reality. Even if he magically found Dave Karofsky in the midst of all these people, what was he going to do? He started to wonder if jumping into this without a plan was such a good idea. Really, what would he even say? And what if Karofsky didn't recognize him? Or worse, didn't want to talk to him? He'd mulled over what Santana had said to him. Was he really only doing this because of the book? What if Dave just laughed at him and sent him on his way? Just because Santana said he'd loved him ten years ago didn't make it true now.

Besides, he'd read that damn book cover to cover. It didn't mention any loving feelings. It didn't even mention the one night that would have come close to loving.

Kurt waited a few more minutes, but he already knew he was going to go home. He trudged back the several blocks to where his car was parked, scuffing his shoes and feeling like an idiot.

A burst of laughter caused him to glance across the street and stop dead in his tracks. There was Dave Karofsky in all his tall, dark and handsome glory, with a group of other men in front of a pub. He was even more good looking than when he was on television, dressed in a dark v-neck sweater and jeans that fit much better than any pair he wore in school. He stared as Dave laughed and his stomach twisted into a knot. This was not the angry, closeted jock he remembered from high school anymore. Despite the author's picture and television appearance, and logically knowing that Dave was different now, he had expected the same uncomfortable slouch, the baggy jeans, and even the letterman jacket. Not this gorgeous, confident, obviously happy man.

Kurt got to his car on auto pilot. Santana had been right. Dave didn't need him showing up out of nowhere just because he wrote a book.

He got in the shower immediately after getting home, hoping it would help clear his poor confused brain. It didn't. After running the same thoughts a thousand times, he was left with just a steady pounding.

The pounding continued even after the water was cold and he shut it off. It took Kurt a moment to realize it was someone at the door. He frowned, and hurriedly threw on his sweatpants. He couldn't think of anyone who would show up uninvited, but usually he answered his phone more often, so it could have been any of his friends checking up on him.

Maybe a distraction would help.

And a distraction might have helped, if it had been anyone other than Dave Karofsky on the other side of the door. Kurt blinked three times, sure he was hallucinating. But no, he was still there. They stood on opposite sides of the doorway for several long seconds of silence, before Kurt remembered to ask him what he was doing there.

"I saw you," Karofsky said quietly, never taking his gaze off Kurt, "On the street. After the game. And then Santana called." He swallowed, and Kurt didn't miss the flicker of his eyes towards his bare chest. "Did you - did you want to talk to me? About something?"

"Um," Kurt said gracefully. He couldn't think of anything else. Well, anything other than how much of the doorframe Dave's body filled up. Granted, it was an older building and they weren't big doorframes anyway - he'd barely got his couch through, and now he was thinking about a shirtless Dave lugging furniture. It wasn't helping him think of anything to say.

Dave just kept staring at him in that same intense way he'd always stared at him.

"You lied in your book." Kurt finally managed to say. He wasn't sure what he was expecting Dave to do in reply, but laughing wasn't it.

"About the last time we had sex," Dave guessed, and Kurt blushed. "I did that on purpose you know. But I'm disappointed, I fully expected you to march across the street and give it to me good right in front of my friends."

Kurt had a vision of 'giving it good' to Dave on the sidewalk. It ended with an arrest for public nudity. "Well, you're awfully full of yourself," he said as primly as he could. While still blushing.

Dave laughed at his expression. "Not like that, although I wouldn't have minded," and hey, Kurt could blush harder after all, "I meant, I expected you to come after me for not being honest. I could just see you freaking out over me telling everyone about all the things we did, and then getting all self righteous over leaving something out."

"Wait a minute," Kurt tried to piece the situation together, "You did it _on purpose? _Just to see if I'd hunt you down? A phone call wouldn't have been easier?"

Dave shrugged. "You're hot when you're mad."

The whole thing was surreal. Kurt was standing in only loose fitting sweatpants arguing with a fully dressed and too good looking to be real Dave Karofsky. A Dave Karofsky who was possibly flirting with him. A Dave Karofsky, who according to his best friend loved Kurt Hummel and who, according to himself, wrote his book at least in part to get said Kurt Hummel to come after him.

Kurt stared. He probably looked ridiculous, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. Dave just waited, shifting his weight from foot to foot, and still staring. His eyes were still that honey-green color.

"Do you really think I'm hot?" Kut asked him quietly. "Or did you only kiss me because I'm the only gay guy you know?"

Dave grinned and Kurt detected a tiny amount of relief in it. "I know a number of gay guys now, and I still only want to kiss you." He stepped inside the doorway, finally, and leaned in close. "Are you going to let me this time?"

Kurt didn't answer, just pushed forward and held Dave's face in a mirror image of their first kiss. Only this time, it wasn't three seconds. It was more like thirty, and the boy - man - still made him feel like he was on fire years later. How had he gone so long without doing this?

This time, no one punched a locker or ran away. Just slammed the front door shut and Kurt led the way to his bedroom for a proper reunion.

_AN - I thought about a smuttier ending, but I have so many ideas and beginnings of other stories, and this one already took soooo long to write that I just didn't have the energy. I'm sure you can all use your imaginations…._

_Karofsky and Lopez, crime fighting Duo. It just rolls off the tongue. _


End file.
